The Perfect Combination
by gator-md
Summary: [August CBPC] Sometimes professional help is required...


A/N: Written for the August CBPC- "What Happens On Vacation... Stays On Vacation" Thanks to A for taking a gander.

The leather crackled as Zach tried to get comfortable. He felt too long for the couch, despite the fact that it only had an armrest on one side and his legs hung harmlessly over the edge. His head rested on the armrest as he stared at the bookshelves in front of him. His hands were clasped in front of him although he kept changing his grip. The temperature in the room was almost too cool, but after the heat of the desert, Zach didn't mind. What he minded was Dr. Saroyan's insistence that he talk to someone about Iraq. As far as Zach was concerned, it was in the past and now he just wanted to move on. Besides, he had Hodgins to talk to…not that he needed anyone to talk to, he insisted to himself. The nightmares were simply his subconscious's attempt to process everything he had seen. Zach was confident they would pass without the help of a psychologist.

Like most scientists he was leery of psychology and didn't put much stock into talking problems out. He knew Dr. Harrell could sense his hostility, but it didn't seem to faze the psychologist in the least. Zach had said very little in his first two sessions. He had reluctantly agreed, after Dr. Saroyan had made her decree, to four sessions with an option for more, if by some miracle he actually felt like he was getting anything out of them. He was twenty minutes into his fifty-minute session and so far they had talked about his colleagues reactions to his return. The overachieving student in Zach attempted to answer Harrell's direct questions, but he found it hard to describe what the others might be feeling. Asking him to recite pi to a hundred places after the decimal would be easier. 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971…

Upon his return, Zach knew things had shifted. Nothing overt, but little things alerted him to fact that things had changed---that he had changed. The first and foremost was that Booth talked to him---not at him or about him, but to him. He also had his own grad student now, which was strange because he was younger than the student. While the age difference would have bothered him before Iraq, now it seemed inconsequential. Though he had only spent five months downrange, it had felt longer. Zach recognized the incongruity of that statement, but it was something he accepted. He knew had grown up while in Iraq, but he didn't think it was cause for concern. Apparently, Dr. Saroyan and Angela disagreed, which is why he was currently listening to Dr. Harrell talk.

"Zach, I know you don't buy into any of this and that's fine. We'll get through these last two sessions and then you can get the hell off my couch. But for now, you're mine." Dr. Harrell was a stocky man with what could only be described as beer belly. His sandy brown hair was a tad bit longer than traditionally acceptable and his tie did not match his shirt. He didn't exactly inspire confidence, but he also didn't seem intimidating, which was probably why Dr. Saroyan had selected him. She didn't realize that the old Zach would have been intimidated either way, while the new Zach was indifferent. "So I want you to try and clear you mind. Concentrate on your breathing. Count your breaths. Three seconds in, hold for two, and then release for three. I know it feels slightly awkward but I am laying the groundwork for a visualization exercise. And before you scoff, just remember you need the all clear from me." Zach half-heartedly attempted to follow the psychologist's instructions. "The only thing you should be thinking of is how long each breath takes."

Though he didn't say anything, Zach was finding it impossible to clear his head. Images from his past assaulted him---bodies in Iraq, Epps's ex-wife's head, the pig in the wood chipper. He couldn't seem to quiet his mind.

Dr. Harrell seemed to sense this and felt for the young man on his couch. Despite his repeated denials, the psychologist recognized the inner turmoil swirling around in Zach. Because he was so closed off to the entire concept of psychotherapy, Dr. Harrell wanted to at least provide him with some tools to help him relax. "Keep counting." It took Zach a few minutes before he was able to really clear his mind enough to concentrate only on the oxygen entering and leaving his body. When Dr. Harrell was satisfied that Zach was ready, he said, "I want you to visualize your own personal sanctuary. By that I mean, a place where you are fully at peace and in control. Take a moment and then describe it."

Once again, Zach wasn't really sure what Dr. Harrell was after, but he recognized Dr. Saroyan and Angela's concern and wanted to what he could to pacify them, even if it meant temporarily suspending his disbelief. "I'm not quite sure what you mean. I'll try, if you can just provide more in the way of an explanation of what you want."

"I just want you to try and relax. Think of this as a mental vacation. You get to leave behind all of your stressors and worries. Whatever you want goes. Don't censor yourself," Dr. Harrell encouraged the young genius.

Zach gave the doctor's words more thought than he believed they deserved. After a moment, he began, "I love spending summers out on the lake in Michigan with my family, but…" This was harder than he had expected.

"But what, Zach?" Dr. Harrell encouraged.

"But since I came back, they hover…and it's like they don't know how to act around me. Like I'm some kind of freak." He paused for a moment before continuing quietly, "I've always been a freak because of my IQ, but this is different."

"So they don't go with your on your vacation. Works for me---as my thirteen year old son is fond of telling me, you're grown, you get to make your own decisions."

"Can I still go to Michigan?"

"Absolutely. Why Michigan? Why not the Caribbean or Crete?"

"Well, it's home. And while I was over there all I really wanted to do was get home. I missed so many things. Little things. Like trees. It's strange the things you take for granted."

The contemplative note of Zach's voice reassured Dr. Harrell that this had been the right track to take. "So you're in Michigan. How are you passing the time?"

Zach's response was immediate. "Catching up on the scientific journals I missed in the hammock my dad hung for me when I was a kid. It's just beyond where we dock our boat."

Dr. Harrell acknowledged the young scientist's need for normality. The entire ordeal in Iraq must have seemed so surreal to him. Now all he wanted was for things to get back to the way they had been. What he didn't seem to realize is that he is the one that changed. "What else?"

He gave the doctor's question some thought. "I don't know. After everything, that might be enough. Just the breeze off the lake keeping me cool while I read up on the latest techniques to identify remains. I like learning. It relaxes me."

The psychologist didn't press Zach on this point. He knew the power of seeking solace in the familiar. Instead, he asked, "Are you alone? And remember this is your vacation, you can bring along whomever you want---for whatever you want." He watched Zach tense in response to his words. "Keep concentrating on your breathing. Nothing leaves this room."

Harrell's reassurance that whatever Zach said would remain within the confines of the four walls of this office helped him to open up. "I guess I'd bring along Hodgins and Angela." The doctor only raised his eyebrows in response as he waited for Zach to continue. "They're my best friends. They understand me and, for the most part, accept me for who I am…or they did before I left."

"And now?"

"Angela just wants to take care of me like a sister. And it's nice to know she cares, but sometimes it's kind of suffocating just like my family. Hodgins, on the other hand, is just Hodgins. Asking me if I saw anything suspicious while I was over there. I think he's waiting for me to tell him I saw Cheney secretly meeting with Bin Laden." As Zach talked about his friends, it was evident how much they meant to him.

"It almost sounds like your ideal place to be is the lab. It's got the perfect combination of science and the people you care about."

Zach had never really thought about it like that. The whole time he'd been downrange he'd wanted to be home, but when he'd gotten back to Michigan, he found he'd outgrown the place. The Jeffersonian was different. Everything he wanted was there---the career he'd pursued for years, the colleagues who had become friends, and the woman he secretly fantasized about. Quickly, he added, "I'd bring one more person."

"Who?"

"Cam."

Again, Dr. Harrell didn't press Zach on this issue. He normally referred to his superior as Dr. Saroyan. By calling her Cam, he had revealed more than he probably realized. A glance at the clock told the psychologist that their time was up. "That's enough for today, Zach. Thanks for humoring me."

As Zach pushed himself up off the couch, he realized that he felt more relaxed than he had the entire time he'd been back. Nodding absently at Dr. Harrell, he left the office and hopped on the metro. On the ride back to the Jeffersonian, he thought about his session. Despite being forced to participate, he found he was actually looking forward to the next one. Maybe there was more to the soft sciences than he'd originally been willing to concede.

Walking into the lab he was immediately greeted by Angela and Hodgins, one anxious to find out how his appointment had gone, the other waiting impatiently to fill him in on his latest theory. Across the lab, he caught sight of a woman strolling confidently to her office. A slight smile on his face, he realized he'd take reality over a mental vacation any day. Angela noticed how much lighter Zach seemed and continued to press him for details despite knowing that he was one of those people who believed doctor/patient confidentiality was a reciprocal agreement. True to form, Zach simply shrugged and said, "Just glad to be back."


End file.
